Scarlett Blade
by CindyT63
Summary: This is an alternate ending to Season Two, Episode 2, The Scarlett Letter. Why did Jane say "No…" when Lisbon told him to chase after the janitor? What if he had a good reason? What if Lisbon doesn't figure it out until it's too late?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Bruno Heller created the Mentalist, and I am not, nor have I ever been, Bruno Heller. This is pure creative indulgence.

My thanks to beta readers Bobbi D, whom I've known since I was 5, and who tells me the truth; Wilma in The Netherlands, who encouraged me to add extra chapters (which I'm glad I did!), and Lia Walker for her thorough beta/editing help. Any remaining errors belong to me!

BRIEF RECAP:

Recap episode up to this point: Senator Melinda Batson's intern, Kristen Marley, has been murdered and dumped off a bridge, minus one shoe. This is the episode in which Jane noticed that the stain above his leather couch that usually looked like Elvis suddenly looked like a hound dog. It turned out the couch had been moved by the janitor when he supposedly changed a light bulb.

Jane suspected that the senator's marriage was a sham, and that the man posing as her husband was having an affair with the intern. When evidence that Jane talked about in the office failed to appear where Jane predicted, he began to suspect they were being spied on. Jane discovered a listening device in the light above the couch, casting suspicion on the new janitor, Art Cavaleri. Jane set a trap to catch the janitor in the act. Jane announced that he had placed "important evidence" in the upper right drawer of Lisbon's desk that was too valuable to move. That night, after normal CBI hours, the janitor returned to Lisbon's office and opened the drawer to gather the evidence. Jane confronted the janitor from one side of the office, and Lisbon confronted him with her gun drawn from the other side. They asked him who hired him to spy on them, but he claimed he has no idea what they were talking about. When Lisbon told him he was an accessory to murder, Cavaleri suddenly claimed he wasn't feeling well and needed to sit.

This alternate ending story takes off from there, just before Cavaleri turns the tables…

CHAPTER 1: Lisbon

10:20 pm

The next ten seconds flew past in a blur. Lisbon never would have believed the janitor could move so fast. As Cavaleri made a move to sit and Jane reached out to stop him, the man hurled a file folder at Lisbon's face. She heard Jane cry out in surprise, followed by the sound of a quick gasp, and in the short blink it took her to bat away the folder and raise her gun, the janitor had pulled a knife and held it pressed to Jane's throat. Cavaleri's left arm encircled Jane's shoulder, pulling him close. Jane was a hostage; a human shield. Lisbon's eyes darted from the gleaming blade to Cavaleri, and then to Jane's face, which held a look of distress she'd never seen before, the color draining rapidly from his face. She gripped her gun expertly.

"Let him go!" Lisbon ordered, her gun trained on the attacker, her grip steady.

He pushed the knife tip into Jane's skin, just enough to pierce it. "I don't think so." The man watched Lisbon's eyes dart from Jane back to him and he smiled. "Put the gun down," he ordered dangerously as Lisbon hesitated for an instant.

An agent never gives up their weapon. But this didn't qualify as an "ordinary" hostage situation. What should she do? Jane was one of their own—in nearly every way that counted.

"Last chance—put down your gun with two fingers and slide it across the floor," Cavaleri repeated more emphatically, as a thin line of blood traced its way down Jane's exposed neck and into his crisp light blue shirt. The fabric greedily soaked up the blood and a dark red stain began to spread.

Lisbon locked her eyes onto the janitor's, although she had been taught to watch the chest to anticipate an attacker's moves. She had learned from Jane that the eyes truly could be the window to the soul. Cavaleri's eyes were hard; nearly black, and she saw no hint of mercy. How the Hell had this man passed a background check? She suspected she knew.

She spoke in her famously level and slow drawl, which belied the rapid pounding in her chest, "That's enough; I get it. I'm putting the gun down. Don't hurt him." She spread both her hands in front of her, holding her gun with two fingers as she slowly crouched to place it on the floor. She saw Jane's breathing quicken, and stole another quick look at his face, which held both fear and defiance. "Jane? You're going to be fine. Just stay calm."

He shuddered slightly, his face tight, but he didn't answer. Lisbon both saw and felt his blue gaze boring into her, trying to communicate with her. She ignored the slight flutter in the back of her mind. She needed him to stay alert, not freak out about the knife or say something foolish and get them both killed. Her weapon, their only defense, lay at Cavaleri's feet, and then he kicked it across the room.

"Now your cell phone."

Lisbon complied. She sent up a brief prayer that Cavaleri wouldn't leave the building with Jane. "We could work a plea with the DA. But if you leave this office with a hostage, you've entered a whole new game."

"Now get your cuffs," Cavaleri ordered, ignoring her words and inclining his head toward the nearest exit.

"This isn't going to work," Lisbon countered, shaking her head. She heard a high-pitched wheeze from Jane as he swallowed past the pressure at the side of his throat. "Ease up on that thing, will you? I'm doing what you said. Don't hurt him," she repeated carefully.

"The door. Hook yourself up."

She noticed the sheen of perspiration forming on Jane's face. _He's freaking out, _she thought with alarm. "Everybody just stay calm." Sheclicked the first cuff to her wrist, then the other one to the door, her gun well out of reach. "Think about that plea. We want whoever hired you. We want Kristen Marley's murderer."

The janitor chuckled tensely. "I think I'll just take my chances. They're looking pretty good right now." To Jane, he said, "We're going to walk out of here," then he whispered something in Jane's ear that Lisbon couldn't hear.

As the janitor began to edge toward the door with Jane as his hostage, the clanging noise of a door opening broke the tense silence and a flashlight beam began to bounce off the walls and windows surrounding the office. One of the night security guards had come from the stairwell to do his normal rounds. A voice squawked to life on his hand-held radio. As it became apparent that the security guard was heading their way, the janitor cursed and released Jane with a hard shove, and ran out the door opposite the guard.

Jane grunted, stumbled, and then steadied himself, dazed, with a hand on Lisbon's desk. His other hand reached up to touch the blood on his throat. He blinked slowly, looking nauseated. The night security guard stood in complete shock—trying to absorb the implausible scene he walked in on.

"Go after him!" Lisbon yelled to Jane. The danger was gone—what was the hold up?

"No…." Jane said sounding very detached, all remaining color draining from his face as he leaned heavily on the desk.

Lisbon, now angry, yelled louder. "He's getting away!"

Jane sagged slightly, but didn't head for the door.

"Ma'am?" the guard said, stunned.

Lisbon turned from Jane. "We need that guy! Find out where he goes! Go! Now! Go!"

The security guard snapped out of his frozen state and ran after the fleeing janitor.

Lisbon glared at Jane. "Keys please," she pointed to where she had thrown her keys.

Jane closed his eyes and opened them drowsily. "Sorry Lisbon. I know you're angry. I…" he whispered before he turned his head and vomited all over her desk.

Lisbon frowned and rolled her eyes. "Oh my God, Jane! On my desk? It's barely a scratch, come _on!_ I need you to uncuff me!"

Jane turned back toward her, now looking slightly green.

"It's just a little blood—you've had worse cuts from shaving!" She watched, helplessly as her colleague's eyes rolled back into his head and his knees buckled. She grimaced as the side of his face slammed into the edge of her desk with a hard thud as he fell bonelessly to the floor, where he stayed, unmoving.

"Fainted?" Lisbon yelled incredulously, her mouth agape. "Are you_ kidding _me? We don't have TIME for this!" She yanked futilely on the cuffs and tried to nudge Jane with her foot, but he was out of reach. "Jane!"

She scowled down at the still form of Jane. She didn't expect him to be Dirty Harry. He was one hundred percent Patrick Jane. But give me a break!

How humiliating.

The suspect got away, Jane fainted, she gave up her weapon, and was handcuffed with her own cuffs in her own office, which now smelled like puke laced with too much tea. Not exactly a shining moment in her career. Bosco would never let her live it down. To top it off, they were going to be upstaged by Stan the security guard, who was currently doing her job for her. "Dammit!" If Jane would at least wake up and uncuff her, he could faint and throw up all he wanted to later—_outside_ her office. She looked at her consultant again, and something in her mind clicked: this was out of character, not Jane at _all._

What she could see of his face looked pale.

Ghostly pale, except for the dark purple line on his face that was swelling rapidly.

She looked again at the small puncture wound on his neck. It was no longer dripping. Maybe it was the fact that the blood—his blood—came from a knife. Maybe he was flashing back to the night Red John murdered his family. She knew a little about the horrors he relived every day, every night. Maybe he had anticipated being sliced open as Red John had done to his family, and it just overwhelmed him. Maybe, and she hated to even think it, Jane had had another breakdown. Lisbon took a deep breath but quickly regretted it as she inhaled the putrid smell wafting over from her desk.

Not his fault.

Jane's not a cop.

Maybe he has the right to faint in this case, under these circumstances.

Maybe.

Her expression softened, and with it, her voice. "Come on Jane, time to wake up."


	2. Chapter 2: Jane

CHAPTER 2: Jane

10:20pm

When Lisbon told him he was an accessory to murder, Cavaleri suddenly claimed he wasn't feeling well and needed to sit.

The next ten seconds were a blur. Jane would later replay the events over and over in his mind, and still not discover how it had all happened so quickly. He was not usually an easy man to catch off guard, but when the janitor bent to sit down and then threw the file at Lisbon's face, Jane was understandably distracted. Just like the rubes he deceived as a child, he fell for the oldest trick in the book: classic misdirection. He diverted his eyes from Cavaleri to the papers flying at Lisbon. He realized his mistake too late, as his whole world reduced to a stabbing pain from a hard blow above his right hip, just below his ribs. His body lifted slightly from the upward force of the blow, and he would have gone down right then if Cavaleri hadn't been half holding him up. He couldn't make a sound at first—couldn't yell a warning to Lisbon. Then the knife was at his throat, pushing, piercing, gagging. Cavaleri's hold tightened around him.

Lisbon's face flooded with a mix of shock and concern, but Jane knew she needed to focus on the situation or they'd both be dead. She still had her gun. God his back hurt. This was a big problem… .He felt warmth start to spread above his hip. Blood. He felt his life seeping out through the wound in his back, and his mind began its gradual separation from concrete reality.

The voice by his ear told Lisbon to put her gun down. That would be very hard for Lisbon to do, but she would do it for him if she thought it would help. How could it _help_? He knew her feelings ran deeper than she showed, and perhaps his did too he realized. He hated to think of her vulnerability if she gave up her weapon. Cavaleri must know that—he'd been in the office for the past few days. He'd seen them work together, sometimes late into the evening. He made Elvis look like a hound dog. The knife dug deeper into Jane's neck, and the edges of his vision became slightly peppered with tiny black spots. The voice barked another command as Jane felt liquid heat snake its way down his neck, the tip of the blade digging deeper. He felt heat all though his back now, down his right leg. His foot felt warm in his shoe. His toes were wet. Sticky. Jane recognized that he might indeed be living the last moments of life, and surprisingly, it sickened him. He still had things to accomplish.

Concentrate.

Don't pass out.

Lisbon is pretty. Beautiful, really.

Don't think about the blood. Watch Lisbon.

Teresa.

Stay calm….Don't make Lisbon do anything stupid or heroic.

_Don't give up your weapon, Lisbon_, his mind cried. But he made no noise other than his ragged breathing.

Lisbon's eyes blazed in fury, but her voice stayed steady, smooth, soothing. She'd make a good hypnotist. That voice could lull him right to sleep. Her voice rolled over him like an autumn breeze.

"That's enough, I get it; don't hurt him. I'm putting the gun down." She spread both her hands in front of her and slowly leaned forward to place the gun on the floor. "Just stay calm," he heard her say.

Silly Lisbon. His shoe was filling with his own blood; how could he feel calm?

Listen to her voice. Her warm, sweet, velvet voice.

Then her voice began to buzz. His face felt hot, then awash with cold, as if a draft had settled over him, swirling, swirling. He realized his eyes had closed.

Jane's breathing quickened, the pain in his back rising, pulsing in time with his heart beat. Something about hand cuffs. He heard a jingle. Cuffs. Not good. Lisbon. Air in; air out.

_I'm still alive._

Two clicks later, Lisbon's voice again. "Just don't hurt him."

Cavaleri's voice cut through the thickening fog. "You and I are going to walk out of here." Then his voice dropped to a whisper near Jane's his ear. "If you drop now, I'll finish you off right now, then kill her. You know I will."

"Just a little stroll…." Jane slurred as the whisperer pulled him back one step.

Something changed. A noise. A flash. A tinny mechanical voice.

Suddenly, Jane lurched forward, the knife no longer pushed against his throat. Pain erupted above his hip and throughout his gut with the short step he took to keep his balance. The room tilted, and he steadied himself with both forearms against the desk. _What do I do now?_ He looked at Lisbon, handcuffed to a door. He turned his head and saw a man standing in the open side of Lisbon's office, his mouth hanging open in surprise. Stan? The night guy?

"Go after him!" Lisbon yelled.

"No…" Jane said quietly, his face portraying his shock. _She doesn't know he stabbed me. It's not her fault. _ Jane closed his eyes and opened them with effort. Lisbon looked like she was yelling to the guard, but the sounds were distorted. He was barely hanging on to consciousness.

Damn buzzing noise. Something about shaving? He could feel his vision narrowing, but he could still make out Lisbon's face. The heat again rose to his face, the roaring of a waterfall in the distance, but closing fast. Jane knew he was passing out. He had let her down.

Lisbon's fiery glare sliced through him. "Keys please," she said sharply, pointing to her keys on the floor.

Jane leaned heavily on Lisbon's desk. "Sorry Lisbon. I know you're angry. I…" he whispered. His mouth filled with the horrible tang of salt just before he felt his entire insides tear open and spill out all over Lisbon's desk. The room spun sideways, and the side of his face exploded in pain as the floor rushed up to greet him and everything—stopped.


	3. Chapter 3: Staging

Many thanks to those who have added this story to their alerts, and have sent in reviews! This is very encouraging!

This chapter is short, but the next chapter will be up soon.

Thank you again, Cindy

CHAPTER 3 Staging

Agents Rigsby and Cho were staged two blocks west of the CBI building, waiting for Lisbon's call. Rigsby wolfed down the last of his burger and slurped the final drops of Mountain Dew from his 44 ounce cup. He double-checked the bag for loose fries, but only got salt under his fingernails. He sighed. "We've been here over two hours. I just ate my last hamburger. You got any more food?"

"No." Cho kept reading his book. He looked around briefly when he heard the loud screeching noise of a car. "Someone's in a hurry," he commented and then went back to reading his book.

Rigsby sighed heavily, bored. "Grace is pissed," he finally announced with a slight smirk. "She wanted in on this bust so much she could taste it. I bet she's wearing a hole in the carpet pacing the floor of her apartment." He chuckled. "You've got to admit, this is a pretty good plan. You know, after Jane found the bug and put it all together."

"Yeah," Cho agreed dryly, the corner of his mouth twitching as turned a page. "All because of the Elvis stain."

"Yeah… all those hours of Jane staring up at the ceiling finally paid off. Guy doesn't miss a thing, I swear. Maybe he is psychic. I can just picture Jane flipping on the light, saying, 'Ah ha!' and Lisbon holding a gun in the guy's face, 'Art Cavaleri, you are under arrest.'"

"Bet it'll be a good bust," Cho agreed.

"Think we should call them?" Rigsby asked eagerly.

"No."

Rigsby licked the salt from his fingers. It could be long night.

A few more minutes passed, and then they heard the wail of emergency vehicles threading their way through traffic, each with their distinct sounds. Police sirens. Fire trucks. Ambulance. They were close. They could see the tell-tale flashing lights illuminating buildings several streets over.

Cho put down his book and turned up the scanner. Something on the scanner caught his attention, so he gestured for Rigsby to listen. "They just said the CBI address. Aid is on the scene."

"I've got a funny feeling about that," Rigsby began as he started the car. "Think it's anything?"

"Maybe I'll try Lisbon after all. If they're still waiting for Cavaleri, her phone will be silenced." Cho punched in the numbers to reach his boss, but she didn't pick up.

Rigsby thrummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Do you think that's a good sign or a bad sign?" he asked the senior agent.

"I've got a bad feeling."

"Try her again," Rigsby urged, his sense of unease mounting. Cho was not easily rattled.

"Yeah." He punched in the numbers for Lisbon's phone a second time. "Her phone's not shut off—it rings. She just isn't answering; must still be silenced. But there's no reason for us to stage here now. Not with all the commotion out front."

"True," Rigsby agreed. "If the guy was going to spook, he'd be long gone now with all those lights and sirens. He pulled away from the curb and signaled his turn. "Try Jane, will you?"

Flashing lights lit up the street, and the chaos of traffic and onlookers soon brought them to a stop. "This seems a little coincidental. And you know what Jane says about coincidences…"

"Yeah," Cho nodded. "That there are none. I'll call him in a minute. Let's find out what's going on here."

Rigsby showed his ID to the cops in charge of traffic control at the accident scene.

The heavy-set cop handed Rigsby's ID back to him. "CBI, huh? I think the guy who got hit is one of your night guys. Hit and run, poor sucker. Night Security. His ID says S. Solvano. What kind of bastard does a hit and run?"

Rigsby turned to Cho, "Isn't that Stan?"

Cho nodded, then leaned across the car closer to Rigsby's open window. "How is Solvano doing? Is he able to talk?"

The cop shook his head. "Knocked out cold, looks like a broken arm, too. EMTs are getting him packaged up now; you know, back boarded to be safe. If he was too bad, though, they'd be gone already. That's all I really know. There were lots of witnesses. Nobody got a good look at the driver—say it all happened so fast, but we got a make on the vehicle and a couple partial plates. We'll get the guy that did this."

"Thanks. Keep us in the loop." Cho handed him a card.

Rigsby pulled ahead and then turned into the CBI parking lot.

Cho reached into his pocket and began punching numbers into his phone again. "I'm trying Jane now."


	4. Chapter 4 Reality and 45 Help

Thank you again for all the positive comments and encouragement. I'm combining chapters 4 and 5 (which I'll call chapter 4.5) because 4 was very short. Hope you enjoy. Please let me know if you do!

CHAPTER 4 Reality

Lisbon had never seen Jane still for so long. Even when he slept on the couch, he changed positions from time to time. Worry began to form in the back of her consciousness, and she fought to keep it at bay. She would much rather be irritated than fearful. "Jane!" she called as gently as she could while still trying to rouse him. She wondered how hard he had hit the desk on the way down. Maybe he had a concussion. All the more reason to wake him. "Jane!"

She saw his left hand move. She let out a relieved sigh. "Jane, time to wake up."

He groaned in response, and his eyelids fluttered slightly.

"Jane—Jane, wake up. I need you to uncuff me. I need to go check on Stan."

His eyes opened, squinted at her briefly, and closed again. "Lisbon?" he said weakly, and then he shivered once as if chilled. "I've…I've got a problem," he whispered through clenched teeth. "I can't get up."

Lisbon flashed back to when he'd been sent flying into a car windshield when a bomb had exploded. His first words had been "I'm fine. I'm fine." But he hadn't been fine. He'd been concussed and blinded. She suddenly felt a hot shock wave jolt through her body. This had to be worse.

_I can't get up._

"Jane?" The hard edge of barely-restrained panic laced its way into her voice as her eyes darted around the room for options. "Jane, what, is it your head? Are you dizzy? Tell me what you're feeling."

He groaned. Then winced, attempting a smirk. "Feelings? That's…that's funny." He shuddered again. "Crap…"

His pain was obvious. Lisbon tugged and cursed at the cuffs in frustration. The security guard should have been back by now.

"Teresa…" Jane began. He never called her that. Strange. He licked his dry lips. "I need you…to stay calm."

Lisbon nodded her head emphatically, feeling anything but calm. "I can do that. I can do calm. I'm calm. Is there any way you can uncuff me so I can help you? Can you reach those keys? Please? Try? We'll get some ice on your face, and get you onto your couch; I'll even make you a cup of tea…"

He turned his head slightly to meet her gaze. His expression halted her; she felt her stomach clench. His eyes didn't sparkle. Jane spoke slowly, haltingly, his voice huskier than usual. "Cavaleri… he… stabbed me…"

Lisbon nodded, looking at the small wound on his neck, which was dwarfed in comparison to the large bruise spreading over the side of his face. "Yes, I know, but it's not a big—"

"In my back…hip…right side…" he groaned, his teeth clenched. "I think…I think it's bad. I can feel...." his voice trailed off to his thoughts "blood in my shoe..." he told her.

"What? No! When? Jane?" This could not be happening! That would explain his pallor, his weakness. The man clearly needed help. Shit, shit, shit. How could she have missed it? He wouldn't be able to uncuff her. The keys might as well have been a mile away. Rigsby and Cho wouldn't arrive until she called them, and her phone lay just as out of reach. She stopped the scream forming in her throat. Jane might very well bleed out and die right before her eyes. She heard her phone buzz; it moved slightly on the carpet as it vibrated. Someone—probably Rigsby or Cho—had been trying to call her, but the phone was out of reach. She spoke very slowly, evenly, to help push down her mounting fear. "Jane I need you to listen to me. Take out your phone. We need to get help _right now_."

Jane nodded without opening his eyes and his right hand reached shakily for his upper left pocket, where he always kept his phone. The entire side of his arm and hand that had been resting on the floor were both covered in his blood. He had been lying in a growing pool—virtually invisible on his navy blue suit and the dark carpet, butbright and stark on the cuff of his pale blue shirt and on his trembling hand.

"Oh my God, Jane—" she gasped at the blood.

"Yeah." Jane focused all his thoughts and energy on getting his phone out of his pocket. It vibrated in his hand, but Jane gave no indication that he realized someone was trying to contact him. He opened it and pushed 9-1-1 and put it near his mouth before he exhaled heavily and his body went limp as he slipped back into oblivion. The phone fell to the floor, open, next to Jane's ear.

CHAPTER 5 Help

"This is Cho."

"He finally picked up?" Rigsby asked anxiously.

"Jane?" Cho asked, uncertainly. He heard three beeps. "He's trying to dial out. I think it might have been 911…"

"Jane!" He heard the hiss of air blowing across the mic, then nothing.

Cho looked at his own phone, and the seconds marking the call time ticked past, indicating the line remained open. The sound of Lisbon calling for help faintly but urgently in the background was all he needed. "Roll," he barked, and they both barreled toward the building, drawing their weapons.

Cho called for local backup as they carefully worked their way, guns drawn, toward Lisbon's office.

"Boss?" Cho called when he saw Lisbon in her office through the interior windows. The light was on, but no sign of Jane or the janitor. He remained out of sight. "You okay?"

"Cho! Oh, thank God. I think we're clear, but Jane's down; Cavaleri stabbed him! He said his back—right side. I think he's lost a lot of blood. He's passed out twice."

Cho quickly knelt by Jane, while Rigsby called for an ambulance. Cho felt for a pulse at the left side of Jane's throat, which he silently noted was very rapid, his breathing very shallow, more like panting. Jane's unnaturally pale skin felt cool and clammy. Cho met Lisbon's gaze. "How long ago did this happen? Where's Cavaleri?"

Lisbon shook her head, thinking. "Maybe twenty minutes by now? The night security guard took off after him. Stan, right? He should have been back by now."

Rigsby called in for an APB on Cavaleri, then filled his boss in as he uncuffed her from the metal bar on her door. "He was hit by a car. Hit and run. He's alive, but unconscious. Traffic's a mess—that might slow down the paramedics, but at least they're on their way."

"Stan got hit by a car? I sent him after Cavaleri—to see where he went."

"Could have been Cavaleri that hit him. It's unfortunate, but it sounds like he'll be okay," Rigsby tried to reassure her. "How's Jane?"

"Not good." Cho raised his voice. "Jane, can you hear me?"

Lisbon knelt next to Cho, speaking softly. "I didn't even know Cavaleri stabbed him! The whole bust went to hell," Lisbon said, her voice catching on the last word. "All I saw was the knife at Jane's throat—using him as a shield. Stan chased him, but never came back. If you hadn't called Jane…"

"Help me roll him onto his left side," Cho directed. "We need to get this bleeding stopped. He's already in shock."

Jane moaned in pain as the three agents carefully moved his body as a unit onto his left side, praying that the knife hadn't hit his spine. He tried to curl in on himself, whimpering when the pain became too much.

"Sorry, Jane," Cho muttered as he pulled on his rubber gloves. "Let's not tug on him any more than we have to. Rigsby, can you cut away the back of his jacket and shirt so we can get a look at what we're dealing with?"

Rigsby quickly snapped on his gloves and pulled a lock knife from his belt pouch. He cut away the parts of Jane's suit jacket and shirt that were saturated with blood. "This is all soaked." The wound measured only about an inch in length, but Jane's vitals spoke to the severity. The surrounding area was bruising heavily. "Oh jeez…just a sec." He sprinted up the hall and jerked open the nearest wall-mounted first aid kit. He came back with a fist full of gauze pads.

"I'm no EMT, but this doesn't look good. His whole abdomen is rigid—must have hit an organ," Cho said gravely. He folded two of the gauze pads that Rigsby gave him and placed it directly on the wound, applying pressure that elicited an almost feral groan from Jane as he tried to roll away from the source of pain. "Jane, you with us? Try to stay still."

Rigsby took off his own jacket and placed it over Jane's upper body to help him retain heat, then he looked at Lisbon. "What happened to his face? Did Cavaleri hit him?"

Lisbon stopped biting her lower lip to answer. "First he threw up, then he hit the edge of the desk as he passed out. He's been in and out since he hit the floor." She knelt down next to him.

Cho's head snapped up. "He threw up _before_ he hit his head?"

Lisbon nodded.

"Be sure to tell the paramedics that. It might be important."

"Shouldn't we elevate his feet or something, you know, for shock?" Rigsby asked, remembering his first aid training.

"I don't think you do that with an abdominal wound, and a head injury," Cho instructed. "Makes it bleed more. What he needs is to be in the hospital with doctors who can help him, not us." Cho told him.

Rigsby nodded. "I'll go meet the paramedics out front and call Minelli. Local PD is dealing with the hit and run mess out front." He left the office and headed for the exit. "They got partial plates on the car."

Jane began to stir again. "Lisbon?" Jane asked quietly, gasping in pain as he tried to move his head to look around.

Lisbon leaned in close to his ear and tried to steady his shoulders from behind him. "Stay still, Jane. Help's on the way."

"Lisbon?" Jane asked, more agitated. "He'll kill her…."

Cho spoke loudly as he continued to apply pressure to the wound. "She's fine, Jane. She's right here." He looked at Lisbon as Jane kept trying to twist to see her. "Get in front of him, Boss. Where he can see you, okay?"

Lisbon nodded and quickly moved to face Jane. "Right here, Jane. Cavaleri's gone. You're going to be fine. Just fine," she said as much to herself as to him. She knelt down and tilted her head down where he could see her without moving.

His dull blue eyes locked on her face; he smiled slightly and closed his eyes.

"Jane?"

No answer.

"He's out again," she choked, "and he's really breathing fast." Louder, she said, "Where's that ambulance?"

"He's lost a lot of blood. Probably more on the inside than the outside," Cho informed her. "I can't even feel a pulse on his wrists. That can't be good. What kind of knife was it?"

Lisbon sagged. "A sharp one! I don't know, it was a knife! The blade might have been, I don't know…six or seven inches?"

Cho flinched. "Do you know how far it went in?"

Lisbon shook her head. "I didn't even know he'd been stabbed! I heard him gasp, but I thought it was because the guy took him by surprise. It all happened so fast. Cavaleri started to sit down, I stupidly started to lower my gun, then he threw something at me and had his knife at Jane's throat before I knew anything had even happened. It all went south so fast! I didn't know. I don't even remember seeing blood on it. I missed it." Quieter, she placed her hand gently on Jane's arm. "God, I didn't know. I am so sorry." She tucked Rigsby's suit jacket carefully around Jane's shoulders and sat helplessly, keeping her hand on his arm until they heard sirens and Rigsby walked in accompanied by the paramedics.

Cho readily relinquished Jane's care to the paramedics, whispering under his breath, "Just keep breathing, Jane. Just keep breathing."


	5. Chapter 5 Guilt 55 You Look Like Hell

Author's note: Thank you again to for all the encouragement! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. I combined two more chapters for a longer post, and so that you'll get to see Jane.

CHAPTER 5 Guilt

Lisbon looked dead on her feet. As she re-entered the emergency room waiting area, her three team members all looked to her face for a sign of Jane's condition. She managed half a smile and took a deep breath before speaking. "He made it through surgery," she said, staring at the back of her hands. She couldn't believe they had finally stopped shaking. Adrenalin is such a strange thing.

"How is he, Boss?" Grace asked compassionately, ducking her head slightly to try to get eye contact.

Lisbon placed her hands together in front of her and very slowly rubbed them back and forth and then laced them together in front of her, squeezing tightly, a habit her team knew was her way of centering her thoughts. She repeated the movement, choosing her words carefully and keeping her emotions in check. "Alive." She paused and took a deep breath. "The knife went in just above his right hip, but it was angled toward his ribs. It did not hit his spine, but it penetrated his right kidney and nicked a renal artery." Her eyes finally rose to meet her team. "They put three units of fluids in him on the ride in, which is a lot, and then he got an emergency transfusion when he arrived. He survived the surgery to repair the kidney and the artery. Needless to say, Jane didn't have much time left."

Rigsby let out a big sigh, and Cho shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Grace continued to stare at Lisbon's face after a quick "check-in" glance at Rigsby. "So he got here in time, right? He'll be okay?"

Lisbon again chose her words with care. "The doctors rattled off all kinds of tests and numbers, but the bottom line for now is that he's critical but stable. His blood pressure has stopped dropping, which was their biggest concern at first. They've given him a lot of blood and other fluids, but obviously this kind of injury and blood loss still takes its toll. Cho was right—the blood on the outside was only a small part of the story. He um…" she paused, "he was bleeding out internally and…"

"And…?" Grace urged.

"And when a kidney is punctured, and the puncture goes deep enough, the contents start to leak into the body…"

"Shit," said Cho, the realization hitting him.

"So they've cleaned out as much as they can, and they've put him on broad spectrum antibiotics. Time will tell."

"But they were able to save his kidney?" Rigsby asked quietly, searching for the proverbial silver lining.

"Yes," Lisbon answered, her eyes bloodshot from stress, fatigue, and a few tears she had shed in private. "As for his concussion, he actually cracked his cheekbone, but it's stable and they think it will heal fine. They rate concussion severity by the recovery time, which right now they have no way to guess, but they don't see anything on the scans that have them too worried. I guess someone from neurology will be contacted for a consult, especially since it hasn't been that long since Jane had the moderate concussion when he lost his sight for a few days. They'll know a lot more when he comes to."

Grace spoke up. "Is there someone we should call? I mean, you know, family or something?"

Lisbon shook her head slowly. "Jane's mother died when he was young, he's been estranged from his father since he was a teen, and he hasn't spoken to his former in-laws since the funeral."

"So, we're kind of his family," Grace said in wonder. She had always known Jane had been very different in his past, but hadn't quite realized the extent to which he had put it all behind him. "It's sad."

Lisbon remained silent, as if she didn't dare speak as she sank into a chair across from Cho. She looked up, and blinked rapidly.

Unexpectedly, Cho spoke next. "Can you two give us a minute? Please?"

Rigsby looked at Grace. "Um, sure. We'll go get a cup of coffee, okay? Maybe a sandwich or something."

Grace nodded and the two left together for the cafeteria.

"You okay, Boss?" Cho asked Lisbon.

The question caught Lisbon off guard. "Me? Yeah, sure. You?"

"Yeah, but I think we're all pretty rattled. Jane can be pain in the ass, but he's also smart as hell and he's a big part of our team. A friend."

Lisbon picked at her thumbnail with her index finger. "How could I _not know_ Jane had been stabbed? Not at first." She fingered her necklace absently. "Not until he told me, for God's sake. I just stood there gaping like a damn rookie."

Cho studied her face as Lisbon continued to touch her necklace. "Would it have made a difference?"

"I wasn't very nice before that. I thought he fainted in fear, in panic, from having the knife at his throat. God, why would I even _think_ that? Listen Cho—I yelled at him for not going after Cavaleri."

"You yell at him every day," Cho stated dryly. "It's never bothered him before."

Lisbon laughed sardonically. It was true. She looked up at the ceiling again and held her breath. Finally she blew it out slowly. "God, I feel so guilty!"

Cho frowned. "Why guilty?"

"Why guilty?" Lisbon protested before lowering her voice to nearly a whisper. "I yelled at a guy who was bleeding to death right in front of me, and didn't let on! I think he was protecting me, Cho. Me! Jane's not the cop! He's not supposed to be the one in the hospital fighting for his life!"

"And you are?" Cho asked rhetorically.

"You know what I mean! This wasn't one of Jane's crazy schemes that he didn't tell anybody about. He didn't go in there solo, all half-cocked and arrogant, to show everybody how much smarter he is than the rest of us! I was…I was supposed to protect _him_! _I _had the gun!"

Cho pursed his lips together, nodding slowly. "So, Jane's supposed to be immune from the dangers of this line of work. Jane's a consultant for the CBI. Not a cop. Right."

Lisbon swiped at her eye with her sleeve. "Right."

"And remind me why he's a consultant? Because…he has…" his voice trailed off for her to finish the sentence.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, amazing skills in observation, profiling, body language, manipulation…."

"Exactly, and he practically reads minds and predicts the future on a daily basis, although he claims he just makes good guesses," Cho added. "He pits himself wit for wit with murderers, even though he knows he's fallible. You can't tell me he didn't know that this job was dangerous."

Lisbon nodded in reluctant agreement.

"And do you think Jane knew he was going to be stabbed?"

"Look, Cho, I see where you're trying to go with this. How could I prevent an act that even Jane didn't know was about to occur? But he did! Now that I look back, Jane reached toward Cavaleri as he started to sit down—he knew Cavaleri was going to try something."

"Then Jane figured it out too late. I'm sure he knows that. I think Jane will be able to speak for himself. He's good at that."

Lisbon chuckled. "Yes, he most certainly is good at that."

Cho smirked slightly.

"Thanks, Cho."

"Sure thing, Boss."

CHAPTER 5.5 You Look Like Hell

Once Jane was out of recovery and settled in a room, a nurse came to tell Lisbon she could check on him. "He's pretty out of it, but he might know you're there. You never know for sure."

Lisbon nodded her understanding and slipped into Jane's room. The last time she had visited Jane in the hospital he had looked completely healthy except for some paleness and the bandages covering his eyes. Once the doctor had patched him up and told him how lucky he was, he had been incorrigible. First dropping sarcastic comment after sarcastic comment, and then telling Lisbon she was a bad visitor. The nerve! But she'd take the cocky smart-ass Jane over the one in the bed before her any day.

Jane looked like he'd been bled. Well, he had, she reasoned, but she somehow expected him to look better now. Instead, he just looked broken. The bruise over his cracked cheekbone stood out darkly, in dramatic contrast to his pale skin, disfiguring his otherwise handsome face. Handsome. There, she'd said it. Not out loud, of course, but at least to herself. She definitely felt drawn to this man in many inexplicable ways.

Okay, time to shove those thoughts aside. Even unconscious, leave it to Jane to tease those thoughts right out of her head and into the open. Better bury them deep.

Every tube and wire imaginable lead to Jane's body, and bags of things she didn't even want to know about hung at every level. This was so _not Jane_.

His lips looked cracked. Maybe she'd bring him some ChapStick. Better find a funny brand. Superman maybe? Or Spiderman? He certainly had Spidey sense. _Okay, Teresa, you need to get more sleep. You're getting weird. _But ChapStick would be a nice gesture, and not too personal. Okay, enough about his lips.

Rigsby had gone to Jane's house to put a bag of essentials together for him. Grace had gone, too, because she knew that a man would forget certain things, like dental floss. Hmm. That brought her back to Jane's mouth again. His lips. _Nope, not going there. _

Okay. Smooth the blanket.

Water? Check.

Ice chips? Check.

Heart monitor, tube shooting air up Jane's nose, the pulse-ox monitor on his finger, blood pressure cuff, IVs, check, check, check, and check.

Nose. Yep, his nose is safe to look at.

Eyes… crystal blue pools…Oh my God… they're open!

Lisbon jumped up and looked at Jane's face again. "Jane?" she said timidly, feeling color rush to her cheeks.

He swallowed with effort. His whole mouth seemed to be as dry as his lips. He blinked a couple times. "Wha----Lisbon?" His voice sounded raw, but he smiled wanly and his eyes closed again.

Oh my God, why was her heart pounding? Relief. Yes, relief. "Want an ice chip?"

He nodded almost imperceptibly.

"You won't choke on it, right? You're awake enough?"

He nodded again. "Throat hurts. Like I swallowed a cat."

She slipped an ice chip into his parched mouth and his eyes opened again and met hers. He sighed a deep sigh.

"Better?" she asked.

Jane nodded carefully. "Cavaleri stabbed me, right?"

Lisbon nodded and avoided eye contact. "We'll get him, Jane."

Jane nodded. His hand ventured up to touch his bruised face. "Somebody hit me with a baseball bat?"

Lisbon shifted uncomfortably. "You, uh… you hit my desk pretty hard when you passed out. Doctors say you cracked your cheekbone."

Jane's eyebrows rose. "Ouch."

Lisbon nodded. "Yeah."

"How'd we get here?"

"Rigsby and Cho to the rescue," Lisbon answered. "How are you feeling?"

"How do I look?"

Lisbon nodded her head encouragingly. "You look fine. A little tired maybe, bruised. But fine. Good."

"Liar."

Lisbon laughed. "Okay then, you kind of look like Hell," she answered honestly.

Jane managed a ghost of a smile as his eyes closed again. "Well, then I feel worse than I look."

His sense of humor seemed intact. That was a start. Lisbon started to slip him another ice chip, but he had fallen back to sleep. She settled back into the slippery vinyl chair by Jane's bed, content to just watch the steady rise and fall of his chest.


	6. Chapter 6: Complications

CHAPTER 6 Complications

Each member of the CBI team had been in to visit Jane in the days following his surgery. Rigsby and Grace did not tell a soul about Red John's ghoulish painting of the smiley face in Jane's house. It was far too private. They knew Jane would figure out that they had seen it, and if he brought it up, they wouldn't lie. But nobody—_nobody_—would hear about it from them. They packed up a shaving kit, toothbrush, the comfort essentials and pajamas. Grace had checked Jane's closet and found a robe, thinking Jane definitely seemed like a "robe" guy, and nobody liked the open-back hospital gowns. Rigsby had bought him some Motor Trend magazines and a new Sudoku book.

Cho had been in to visit Jane twice in four days, which was a lot for Cho. He didn't really chat, but checked in and made sure to update Jane on the case. Stan the security guard had been released from the hospital, the local PD had found the car involved in his hit-and-run, and it eventually lead to Cavaleri. Once in custody, and confronted with the charges, which now had hit-and-run, evading police and attempted murder added to the list of accessory to murder, conspiracy, and obstruction, Cavaleri had been more forthcoming.

It turned out that both the senator and her famous father had been sleeping with the intern, and it was the senator who had killed the young woman. The senator was out on bail, but would be facing second degree murder charges in court and a list of lesser crimes. Cavaleri had quite a criminal record, so a full inquiry had been opened to discover how he had passed the CBI background check. Payoffs had clearly been made, and the money trail eventually lead back to the senator. The case had quickly been taken over by the FBI, who was doing their best to leave Lisbon's team out of the loop.

"That's because of the mob connection," Jane concluded.

"The what?" Cho asked, once again caught off guard by Jane's mental leaps.

"I have had some interesting conversations with my doctors," Jane offered. "Even the surgeon who sewed me back together."

This piqued Cho's interest, as Jane knew it would.

Jane sat up straighter in his bed, and became more animated than Cho had seen him since the attack. "According to the surgeon, Cavaleri was either very lucky or very practiced."

"How so?"

Jane smiled. "There were two key elements—the first one, we already knew: he was extremely fast and efficient. The second I learned from the surgeon. It's not easy to achieve what Cavaleri achieved in one strike: he needed to stop me, but he needed me to be able to stand for awhile. Even walk, given enough motivation. If there had been much deviation in the knife's path, he wouldn't have achieved his goal. I'd have been dead or paralyzed."

Cho nodded his head slowly, thinking over the facts that he already knew. "He had the knife on him when Local P.D. picked him up. It was a V-42 stiletto, not the typical knife choice for a novice. It's light weight, and specifically designed for stabbing, and it even has a small, scored indentation for your thumb, to help orient the knife for thrusting."

Jane nodded. "Exactly, I'm a walking, well, somewhat walking, testimony to how well the knife works when wielded by a pro. And how about his accent?"

"Yeah, his disappearing accent. How does that connect him to the mob?"

"A person can't fake an accent that consistently—that well—without having been surrounded by the real thing for quite some time. That kind of acting takes practice."

Cho stared at Jane without expression. "I don't see the mob connection."

"Work with me here, Cho. You think the senator is going to hire an amateur? Where would she even find one? No, she has much higher connections. Dirty connections. She needed someone fast, someone to fix mistakes, who could take care of any problem that might arise along the way. We know Cavaleri was a pro by his actions, we know he has spent time around Italian-Americans, and we know that once the Feds caught wind of this, they cut the CSI out completely."

"When did you figure all this out?" Cho asked.

"I've been thinking about it."

"I see."

"And the FBI agent who came to talk to me might have let a few things slip, too," Jane admitted.

Cho shook his head. "Figures."

Jane had found it all very satisfying. "It's good to know that my misfortune ultimately helped catch the bad guys," he had said. "And bad girls," had added.

Lisbon had managed a quick visit each day of the four Jane had been in the hospital. They had some final tests to run, but it appeared that Jane's kidney was resuming normal functioning, so they were talking about releasing him soon. Nobody exactly knew what that would look like, but they suspected the brown couch would be involved. That might be a pain, like it was when Jane had temporarily lost his sight, but it would be good to have him back. The stain had been removed from Lisbon's carpet, but Lisbon couldn't walk there without seeing the image of Jane's bloodied body on the floor.

Each day Jane had looked and sounded stronger. His prognosis was good. The bruising on his face looked worse than ever, but the swelling had gone down a lot. Jane said it didn't hurt, but Lisbon knew it had to. She had brought him the ChapStick, settling on ChapStick Moisturizer with aloe and vitamin E, and Jane hadn't embarrassed her about it. He had said it was very thoughtful. She had also brought him a cactus. She remembered how much he loved the desert, and thought he might not remember to water a plant very often, and that it would survive his neglect.

But Jane had seemed quieter last night. More tired, maybe? She knew he never slept very well, and nobody slept well in a hospital. But there was something more. He hadn't made disparaging comments about his medications and blood draws. He hadn't complained about the soft, bland "appalling" diet. Come to think of it, he hadn't eaten it either, though, not even the blue Jello that he had really taken an unexpected liking to. That sent up a small red flag. At least he hadn't tried to check himself out of the hospital. Yet. Of course, Grace and Rigsby had deliberately not brought him shoes, and the pair he had worn to the hospital, along with his clothing, were ruined.

But at the moment, as Lisbon stepped through the front doors of the hospital again, she felt quite proud of herself. It had taken three stops after work, but she had finally found a huge bright green frog-shaped Mylar balloon for Jane. She'd bring him dark chocolate candy bars when he was allowed to eat them, but this would put a smile on his face for now. She wrestled the giant frog into the elevator and pushed the button for Jane's floor. She moved fast to get the balloon out of the elevator before the doors closed on it, then she headed for Jane's room.

The tall slim male nurse stepped between Lisbon and the door to Jane's room. "Excuse me, Miss. You can't go in there." "That's not Mr. Jane's room any more. We had to move him."

"Is everything okay?" Lisbon asked anxiously.

The nurse hesitated a moment, and then waved her over to the nurses' station for privacy. "Patrick developed some complications during the night. He's having a pretty rough time."

Lisbon felt an uncomfortable wash of adrenalin surge through her. "Complications? What complications? I thought he was almost ready to go home."

"He developed a high fever late last night, and it's still climbing. His white count and neutrophil count are showing a pretty mean infection and stress. We have him on a cooling pad and the doctor is reviewing his meds now, to see if we need to change antibiotics or just give the current meds more time to do their job."

"Can I see him?" Lisbon asked urgently, the frog balloon now seeming a little ridiculous.

"Yeah, that's fine, as long as you don't add to his stress. Try to help him stay calm, will you? He may be pretty out of it, with the fever and the pain killers, and the sedative," the nurse advised.

Lisbon frowned. "Sedative? Why?"

The man put his clipboard down. "It's not real unusual with a high fever, especially after such a violent trauma like this, but Patrick seems to be having some very… vivid… intense nightmares. It's critical for us to do what we can to prevent his body from getting more taxed like that. The dreams…" the nurse shook his head and cringed in empathy, "they send his pulse and blood pressure through the roof, and this morning he thrashed enough to pull out an IV. They seem to get worse as his fever goes higher. Excuse my wording, but it's got to suck to be him right now."

Lisbon swallowed down the lump in her throat. Her friend had many reasons for nightmares. "I'll do my best to have a calming effect." It was the least she could do.

A high pitched tone started to beep, and the man muttered something under his breath. "Speak of the devil…. Please follow me."

The nurse approached Jane's bed quickly as he began to thrash and arch his back. "Mr. Jane, hey, Patrick, wake up, man. You're having a nightmare."

Lisbon awkwardly approached the other side of Jane's bed. He was covered with a light sheet. She gently squeezed his overly warm arm with both hands. "Jane, wake up." His thrashing lessened, and his eyes flew open, but he showed no recognition. She spoke again, softly, slowly, rubbing his arm. "You're safe, Jane. Remember? You're in a hospital."

His breathing began to normalize. "Lisbon?"

Lisbon smiled nervously as Jane visibly relaxed. The male nurse took his vitals, and then injected something into his IV port, which he noted in Jane's chart.

"I'll check back in a few minutes and see if this helps," the man said.

Jane looked more haggard than Lisbon had ever seen him. His cheeks were flushed with fever, his damp hair plastered to his face. Pain registered through his features, particularly his eyes, which now had dark circles under them. How could he fall so far so fast?

Lisbon handed him a glass of water. His hands were shaking, so she helped him hold it as he drank.

"I don't feel so good," he stated hoarsely.

"That's an understatement."

"My eyes hurt—could you turn down the light? Please?" Talking seemed to exhaust him further.

"Sure." Lisbon turned down the light and pulled the blinds down. She went to the sink and ran cool water on a wash cloth and folded it carefully. She returned to his bedside. "May I?" she asked soothingly.

Jane leaned back further into the pillows with a slight wince and nodded slowly, his eyes closing heavily.

Lisbon gently placed the cool cloth on his forehead, very aware of the feverish heat radiating from his body. She soon turned it to over to the cooler side, and his face began to relax. She ran the cloth under cooler water and wrung it out again, this time carefully dabbing it against his cheeks, taking care not to press on the darkest areas of bruising. She repeated the procedure for his neck, and then returned to his forehead, after brushing his damp curls to the side. She ended with a cool cloth laid gently over his eyes.

"Thanks," he croaked, moistening his lips with his tongue. "I've never seen this nurturing side of you."

Lisbon blushed, grateful that Jane's eyes were covered, and she turned the cloth to the cool side once again. "I bet you never even knew I had it in me," she teased.

"Oh I knew…" Jane replied wearily. "I just never dreamed I'd be at the receiving end."

"Remember I practically raised my little brothers," she said, lightly touching the cool cloth to his forehead.

Jane frowned.

"What?" Lisbon asked, feeling a little strange.

"Please don't tell me I'm like a brother to you…"

Lisbon walked again to the sink and rinsed the now warm rag under cold water. She paused before wringing it out again and turned to Jane. "Maybe not strictly…no…" She felt herself slipping into dangerous flirtation. It wasn't fair. Jane wasn't himself. She shouldn't take advantage of his vulnerable state. She wrung out the cloth and put it on his forehead.

Jane's shoulders sagged deeper into the pillow. "Well that's something I'll cling to…"

"I'll let you get some rest," Lisbon whispered, and she turned to leave.

"Stay," Jane said simply, opening his eyes to watch at her. "Please. At least for a little while. And tell me what's bothering you so much." His crystal blue eyes were over-bright with fever, and more piercing and desperate than she'd ever seen.

Lisbon broke from his gaze, but smiled and sat down in the vinyl padded chair next to the bed. "Let's just sit for a few minutes, okay? You need some real rest. We can talk later."

"You're delaying… whoa…I think those meds just came on board. I'm… floating… Hey…am I hallucinating, or is there a frog floating in here too?" He reached for her hand.

"It's a frog…" His hand felt wonderful.

"Frogs make everything better," he slurred. "You're so beautif…." Jane's eyes closed and within seconds his head lolled to one side and his breathing deepened. Years of tension came off his face as the pain released its grip and he fell into a peaceful sleep.

The nurse peeked in the door and spoke in a hushed voice. "Thank you. You did have a calming influence. Any chance you could stay awhile? He really needs the rest."

Lisbon looked carefully at her very ill friend, and slid her hand out from his self-consciously, feeling color once again rise to her cheeks. "I'd be happy to stay."


	7. Chapter 7: Rest

Author's Note: Chapter 6 seems to have been invisible for part of the day. Very strange! Thank you again for all the alerts, messages, and reviews! Please enjoy this chapter.

**CHAPTER 7 Rest**

A very long two days later, Jane's fever began to come down, and as he improved, his discomfort was replaced by excruciating boredom and discontent. He no longer had a catheter, and with it came a bit more mobility, provided that he dragged his IV pole around with him. But oh God, he needed a shower. A _real_ shower. He craved a taco. A _real_ taco. He wanted a couch, and not just any couch; he wanted _his _couch.

Hospitals had marginally decent couches, just not in patient rooms. Jane had wandered much of the hospital earlier in the day, and he'd spotted several possible candidates. The couches in the pediatric rec room would have been perfect, but were typically occupied at all hours of the day and night with parents or volunteers rocking little ones.

Sometimes it was just the exhausted parents needing to stretch out on and catch up on some much-needed rest while their sick or injured child slept. The hospital only provided a single chair-bed for one parent, and they were far from comfortable. No, Jane couldn't take that away from them, even for a few hours. An idea began to form in his head on how to help these children, but for now, he too, needed rest. Jane moved his search to the ground floor, eventually finding the emergency room.

The best couch, where he had the greatest chance of resting undisturbed for a few hours resided past the one-way doors in the emergency psych evaluation rooms set aside as private waiting areas for family members to meet with social workers and other care providers. With the room being in a psychiatric emergency area, Jane knew he could count on plenty of noise. Probably more noise at night, because, well, everyone knew the crazies came out at night. Jane needed sleep more than he needed a shower or a taco. He _needed_ that couch.

Jane had completely memorized the staff schedules shortly after his fever had dropped below 101. Janitorial services, nursing, doctor rounds, phlebotomists, respiratory therapists, blah, blah, blah. He had narrowed down that his best chance of success would be at one am. He knew without question that he'd be awake, just like the past two nights. Three more hours of tedium, then he might be able to get some sleep. _Okay… Sudoku puzzle number 314, here I come…._

One o'clock came without fanfare, just as Jane had predicted. His room had been mopped, his trash emptied, his sink cleaned, the paper towels restocked, his water dumped and refilled, his vitals checked, blood drawn, the annoying hallway whistler had finally gone off duty, and the nurses and orderlies expected everyone to be sleeping. Didn't he wish. Jane pushed himself up from the bed carefully and put his legs over the side, taking care not to pull too hard on his stitches. He put on his bathrobe leaving one arm out, and made his way to the door quietly wheeling his IV pole.

"Mr. Jane, do you need some help?" a cheerful voice called out from the nurses' station.

"No, I'm good. I'm good," Jane assured her. "Going a little stir crazy, but good."

"Feeling a little stir crazy's a good sign. It means you're getting better," she called back encouragingly.

"A bit," Jane agreed. "I'll be just around the corner."

The large black nurse smiled warmly, her "Cherries Jubilee" lipstick sparkling. "Just don't overdo it."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Jane promised. The last thing he wanted was to prolong his stay. Nothing personal.

"And don't leave this floor, please. It is after midnight."

The walk to the emergency room was longer than Jane had remembered; it had seemed closer earlier in the day. Apparently he didn't quite have the endurance he thought he had yet, and his earlier jaunts had taken their toll. All the more reason to seek some uninterrupted sleep. The noise level rose as he approached the emergency room, and he felt his nerves begin to calm. The trickiest part of this little outing would be getting past the registration ladies and into the psych evaluation area. Fortunately, the staff concerned themselves more with people leaving the psych area than with people entering it. He just needed to wait until they were distracted. He prayed that he would find an unoccupied couch in one of the back areas.

Finally a woman came through the main emergency room doors with her elderly mother, who had fallen and had abrasions on her hands and a bloody nose. The pair provided just the right barrier between the receptionist and the door. Jane slipped past them and worked his way down the long hallway to the more private waiting rooms. Off to the right were two sets of rooms, separated only by a moveable wall. He ducked into one but a woman and a young girl were in there looking every bit as tired as he felt. The little girl's bloodshot eyes stared at cartoons on the television mounted high in the far corner.

"Oops, sorry, wrong room," Jane said as he quickly backed out. He tried the next room over. Empty. And there it was. He had spotted it that morning, and it had been calling his name ever since. Jane turned the TV on to a news station he had no intention of watching, and then turned the light off to make himself less visible. He lowered himself gingerly onto the couch and laid on his left side, getting as comfortable as possible. The cacophony of the emergency room roared around him, and the overlay of the television noises offered the perfect asynchronous ebb and flow of sounds that he sought. A person coughed here and there. A couple chatted. An orderly laughed as he pushed a squeaky gurney down the corridor. Someone's shoes skritched their way down the freshly mopped floors. A crazy person yelled obscenities to the world, damning his parents and all who worked at the hospital. Jane smiled contentedly as tension drained from his body and he drifted to sleep.

Several blissful hours later, Jane awoke to find the very heavy-set black nurse from upstairs towering over him. "Mr. Jane! Are you okay?"

He began to speak before he was fully awake. "Fine, fine. I could do with some eggs, though, and tea…" he sat up on the couch and rubbed his eyes, squinting in the sudden light. "Is it morning?"

"No it's not morning, it's the middle of the blessed night! I don't know whether to throttle you or hug you! What made you pull such a stunt?" she demanded in a tone that belied the relief on her face.

"Stunt?" Jane said innocently. "That's the best I've slept without your drugs since I got here."

"Well, half the hospital has been searching for you for the past three hours! We've been paging you and paging you! Thought you might have keeled over somewhere in a stairwell or that your infection had flared back up, or worse yet—that you'd checked yourself out of here AMA!"

Jane's eyebrows rose. "AMA? Oh yes, against medical advice. Are you allowed to do that?"

She scowled, but otherwise ignored him. "Instead, I find you camped out in here watching television!"

Jane opened his hand and placed it over his heart. "In my own defense, I was not actually watching television. I can watch television in my room, and maybe I would if there were anything besides Jeopardy and Stargate Atlantis reruns worth watching. I mean, Rodney's a little pompous and annoying, and their so-called science is a lot of hocus pocus, but it's fiction, so who cares, right?" he babbled. He started to yawn, but it was cut short by the pain in his cheekbone. "Ouch."

Rose stared at him with one carefully-plucked eyebrow raised.

Jane clarified. "I was…I was sleeping."

Rosie helped him stand. "Most our patients do that in their rooms too! You're lucky I didn't up and die of a heart attack when I couldn't find you! You lied to me, Mr. Jane. You are no longer fit to be trusted! Let me get you back to your room and check your vitals. You are long overdue, and there are going to be blank spots in your chart I'm going to have to explain! I won't lie! People trust me to tell the truth! I won't make up numbers I didn't get! You've caused me a lot of trouble, Mr. Jane."

He winced slightly as he stood, from a dull ache in his back. "I'm sorry, Rosie. I certainly didn't mean to cause you any trouble. I don't sleep well sometimes." He pondered for a moment. "Most times, really. Noise helps."

Rosie's voice softened as she guided him toward a wheelchair. "I know you don't, Darlin'. I've seen you each night. Unless that pretty brunette is with you, you toss and turn or lay there awake with your demons."

_My demons_. "Well that can be our little secret, okay?" he asked, squeezing her shoulder gently. "You won't share that with that pretty brunette, I'm sure." He released her shoulder with a gentle pat.

"Honey, she knows. She knows. Hey—I have an idea… . But first we'll get you back to your room. I'm just glad you're okay, Patrick, now that I'm done being scared out of my mind and mad at you all at once."

Shortly after Jane settled back into his room and Rosie had checked and charted his vitals, clucking and shaking her head at his slightly elevated temperature, she left to pursue her "idea." Jane dozed off and on lightly until she returned triumphantly.

"There!" Rosie said proudly as she placed a small electrical device resembling a radio on Jane's tray. "Try it out! All the noise a man could want. I borrowed it from the sleep study folks up on the sixth floor. Here—try it. Have a listen."

Jane turned the dial on the small battery-operated player, and his room filled with the tinny clanging of dishes and the banter of a room full of people. "A cafeteria," he noted.

Rosie nodded and pointed to the dial. "It has ocean, nightclub, crackling fire, forest, playground, and even police precinct, and you won't need to leave this room. I don't recommend crackling fire, though. I hear people go to sleep with it, but panic when they wake up to it! Now, I know this bed isn't a comfy couch, but we can line one side bar with pillows if you like. Plus, you won't get puked on, peed on, or bled on here, and we can look after you better here, Patrick."

Jane looked up at the large woman's beaming face, complete with a fresh coat of the ultra glossy color on her ample lips. "Thank you, Rosie. I know you have other patients to attend to. I'll be good."

"Promise you'll stay out of the emergency room?"

Jane nodded obediently_. But not the pediatric ward_, he thought silently. But that would be another day.

She nodded in satisfaction and then turned for the door. "Then your secret is safe with me, Patrick Jane. Enjoy your noise."


	8. Chapter 8: Magic

Author's note: Jane's hospital adventures are drawing to a close. One more chapter after this one. Thank you all for the encouragement. Special thanks to Wilma for asking to see what Jane would do if let loose in a hospital when he's feeling better. It's so fun to play Jane's antics against Cho's deadpan facade.

CHAPTER 8 Magic

Agent Cho unceremoniously placed the large rumpled brown paper bag on Jane's tray table. "Okay, Jane, here are the things you asked for. Some of those aren't easy to get your hands on."

Jane sat up higher in his bed without assistance. "I know. How did you find them?"

Cho shrugged. "I know a guy. But they weren't cheap."

Jane looked in the bag eagerly. "I'm good for it. I'll pay you back. Thanks, Cho."

"You gonna tell me why you needed all these?"

Jane looked up from the bag conspiratorially. "Well, I need the hand pump so I don't blow up my stitches, and I need the permanent markers because water soluble ink just beads up on nitrile and makes a mess."

Cho remained as unflappable as ever, crossing his arms over his chest. "Of course. And the non-latex color-changing gel stress balls?"

Jane looked at Cho as if he were from another planet. "You have to ask?"

Cho sighed heavily. "So when are they letting you out of this place?"

"Why, you miss me?" Jane smiled, his eyes twinkling.

Cho held him in a stare. "Somebody needs to hold down the brown couch."

Jane laughed easily, then gritted his teeth with a groan. "Ouch. That was unexpected. I didn't think you'd make me laugh. You're supposed to be my one safe visitor."

Cho's mouth twitched in a near-smile.

"To answer your question, the docs are saying they can cut me loose tomorrow, as long as my temperature stays below 100 off the IV, which it has now been for a full," he glanced up at the clock, "ten hours."

"Good luck then. I'll see you soon."

"Thanks Cho. I'll be seeing you."

"Try to stay out of trouble." _Yeah right_, Cho thought. _I bring the guy markers, squishy balls and a pump and I expect him to stay out of trouble…._

Once Cho left, Jane got to work on the idea that had been forming in his mind since he had ventured out to find a couch. First he lifted a clean "patient belongings" bag from the janitorial closet without incident, and walked nonchalantly back to his room. He had snatched three plastic coffee mugs from the food service cart that morning. He loaded the bag with all his supplies, and then placed them on the wheelchair they kept in his room, and covered the bag with an extra blanket. He whistled casually as he walked confidently past the nurses' station. Rosie had the day off, and the current staff wasn't particularly suspicious of him, now that he was almost ready to be discharged. Besides, he wasn't really doing anything wrong. Not really.

He breathed a sigh of relief when the elevator doors closed and then he peeked up the hall when he stopped off on the pediatric floor. On his way to the recreation room he procured a spare hospital tray table and wheeled it alongside the chair, smiling and waving to parents and staff as if he owned the place.

He sat in the wheelchair in a far corner of the recreation room, and put the rolling tray table in front of him. He felt a little tired, but this would be worth it. He took out the pump and emptied a pocket full of purple rubber gloves onto the table. He picked up a glove and pinched it around the end of the hand pump and began pumping. Once it was filled to capacity, he let the inflated glove deflate with a very loud and drawn out raspberry sound, and looked appropriately horrified and embarrassed at the noise when the nearest children turned around to see him. He heard some giggles. He tied off the next glove and drew a silly face on it, then batted it into the air. He tied off two more gloves, and drew cartoon faces on them and silently acted out an argument between the two gloved characters and then a fight scene until one glove gradually wilted away to nothing but a limp shell, and then that disappeared entirely, much to the delight of his young growing audience.

Jane saw a little girl with no hair and huge green eyes whisper, "Magic…." He leaned over to her and appeared to pull a new purple glove from her ear, and her giant smile nearly melted Jane on the spot. Each child ended up with an inflated glove, each glove looking different, each glove bearing some small detail subtly representative of the child.

Next he silently placed three tan plastic coffee mugs upside down on the table—all empty. He scrambled the cups with flourish typical of a shell game. He crooked his finger to call over a teenage boy who stood at the edge of the younger crowd looking skeptical. He gestured for the boy to choose a cup.

"There's nothing under any of them," he said scornfully.

Jane shrugged. "Maybe there is; maybe there isn't. Take a chance," he whispered. "Pick one."

The boy approached Jane and grudgingly pointed to the one in the middle.

Jane lifted the mug and under it was a bright green stress ball. "Winner!" Jane announced as he handed the boy the ball. "Keep it," he added, as the boy gave it a hard squeeze and the insides swirled.

"Cool," he said, staring at the swirling goop. He stepped back to let others try.

Doctors, nurses, and parents alike all began to gather to watch Jane work his magic with his seemingly endless supply of stress balls. Real magic, which revealed its truth on each young face. Lisbon stood among the onlookers, having heard about a "magician" putting on a show in the pediatric rec room after she had found Jane's bed and room empty, but Jane appeared oblivious to all except the children. Lisbon had seen Jane interact with small children a time or two before, but it wasn't until now, as she really stood back and watched how his face changed as he looked each child in the eye that she began to comprehend the devastating depth of the loss he experienced when his own precious daughter was murdered. Lisbon heard a shrill giggle from a little boy, and she marveled at yet another facet of the man whom, after all these years, she was still just getting to know.


	9. Final Chapter: Going Home

Author's Note: Final chapter. Part of me is happy, part is sad. Thank you all for reading!

CHAPTER 9 Going Home 

"Come on," Jane chided as Lisbon helped him ease himself into the passenger seat of her car, "it makes perfect sense and you know it."

"You can't be overdoing it, or you'll end up back in the hospital."

"I promise—I'll only go from the couch to the kitchen and the bathroom. Oh, and of course the vending machine for chips. Maybe the occasional candy bar. I'll go home to shower. I'm supposed to walk around—it speeds recovery from the surgery, and I'll be able to help on cases."

Lisbon agreed grudgingly. "Minelli won't like it."

"Well...it reduces my risk of clots or stroke!" he said adamantly, "and this _was_ an on the job injury, you'll recall."

"Minelli still won't like it," she repeated.

"You can handle Minelli," Jane insisted. "Oh," he said, looking at her again, more carefully. "I see. You've already cleared it with him!" He shook his finger at her. "You tried to trick me."

"No field work," Lisbon clarified, ignoring the jibe.

"Deal. No field work. Unless—"

"No!" Lisbon snapped. "No field work, Jane!"

"Okay, no field work, for awhile."

"Until your doctor clears you."

"Doctors don't know everything. It's called _practicing_ medicine because—"

"NOT until your doctor clears you," Lisbon maintained. "One wrong punch to the face and you could re-break your cheekbone!"

"It was only cracked," he corrected her. "Not even a _real_ break."

Lisbon pulled the "boss" card and started to stare him down.

Jane sat back and put both hands in the air in defeat. "Okay, okay! You win. That couch is going to feel so good. Thank you Lisbon, for everything."

"Humph."

Lisbon shut the engine off and faced Jane. "There's something I need to tell you."

"Okay, I'm listening."

"I saw you doing the magic show for the kids yesterday. It…it was very sweet."

Jane bowed his head slightly and chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah, well. I saw you there too."

"You did not!" she insisted.

"Yes, to the right of the elevators, standing next to the balding but bearded doctor with the Gumby neck tie."

"You didn't let on that you saw me."

"You didn't look like you wanted to be seen."

"You were in your element. I didn't want to intrude."

"Well, you could have joined me as…as… My Lovely Assistant, Teresa. Of course, then you would have had to wear a sparkly leotard…of course it would've had to be revealing but...not in front of the children."

She slapped his shoulder and laughed.

Then he faced her and smiled. "I guess you can take the boy out of the carnival, but you can't take the carnival out of the boy."

"I heard a lot of laughing. You were laughing too. It was a great sound."

"It felt good," he admitted, taking a deep breath. "There's something I just can't quite figure out," Jane said with an uncharacteristically puzzled expression on his face.

"Patrick Jane stumped?" Lisbon chided, still in her parking place. "I didn't think that was possible."

Jane raised an eyebrow and nodded, "Well I agree it is highly unusual. I'm trying to make sense of why you feel so out of sorts."

"Out of sorts? Who's out of sorts!" she argued.

"So guilty—other than the obvious…"

"The obvious?" Lisbon answered, fingering the cross pendant she always wore around her neck.

"Your Catholic upbringing," Jane stated with a smirk as Lisbon frowned and let go of the gold pendant. "It seems to have predisposed you to feeling guilty. I hear it's quite common…"

"My Catholic upbringing has nothing to do with me feeling guilty," Lisbon defended. She adjusted her rearview mirror needlessly.

"A-ha!" Jane pointed at her, his eyebrows raised. "Then you do admit you feel guilty about something. Something that seems to have a lot to do with me, which I can't figure out because you did, after all, save my life and help nurse me back to health…"

Lisbon turned in her seat and faced him suddenly, her emotions ready to explode. "Save your life? Are you kidding me? I have no business using you like this! You almost died, and I didn't protect you! That's my job! You're not a cop! You didn't have a gun—I did! You're not trained. You're a consultant; you're not supposed to be put in dangerous and volatile situations. I was irresponsible! I should have told you no! Hell, I didn't even know you'd been stabbed! Even after you passed out! This whole thing scared the crap out of me! And now I'm letting you come right back into the lion's den? What kind of person am I?"

Jane's bemused expression did nothing to calm her.

Lisbon's rant continued. "Dammit, Jane! You could at least yell at me or something! You stood there in my office bleeding to death and I was mad because I thought you just fainted. Which is stupid that I would think that because I've seen plenty of bad things happen to you and in front of you and you aren't a fainting kind of man. So I'm just so MAD at myself and you should be mad at me too, but instead, you sit there—"

"Did you roll your eyes?" Jane asked out of nowhere.

Lisbon stared at him in disbelief. "What?"

"Thank back. When you thought I fainted. Did you roll your eyes? Because if you did, I didn't see it."

"What?" she repeated, dumbfounded. "What does that have to do with _anything_?" Jane had effectively thrown her off her downward spin.

"Calm down, please, Lisbon," Jane said, this time gently… even tenderly.

Lisbon's blazing eyes softened. She slid down into her bucket seat and swiped at a tear that dared to escape her eyes.

"Look at me," Jane asked warmly.

She couldn't ignore the silky voice. But to look at those eyes would be to bare her soul. "I hate to cry," she sniffed. "I'm not a crier."

"Please," he added, seeing her hesitation. "I know you're not a crier."

Her eyes finally met his. He smiled. "Thank you. Thank you for saving my life… in more ways than you know."

She felt a lump in her throat and shook her head as she opened her mouth to speak.

Jane held up a hand. "Hear me out. If you hadn't gone with me that night—if you had said it was too dangerous, or stupid, or a bad idea, or anything, you know I would have ignored you and done it anyway by myself."

She started to speak, but he cut her off. "Come on, Lisbon, you know I would have done it anyway. And instead of stabbing me to disable me so he could use me as a shield, he would have just slit my throat or left me there to bleed to death, and I'd be dead. Stan might or might not have found me, and it probably wouldn't have made any difference. Then you would feel guilty that you didn't come with me, and I wouldn't be around to tell you not to feel guilty because even that wouldn't have been your fault."

"But—"

"I'm not done yet, and this isn't easy for me." Jane took another deep breath. "I'm not especially fond of sharing my feelings, except perhaps disapproval, but seeing that you're berating yourself over something that you didn't have the power to prevent, I need to tell you. So please indulge me."

Lisbon could hear the intensity behind Jane's words. Intensity she had only heard in the past when he confronted a murderer or talked about Red John. "I'm listening."

"I've never really considered my own death before. Not close up and in my face. At least not when I was thinking rationally. I've been consumed by the deaths of my wife and child and never thought of my own mortality. I didn't care. You were right back when you told me I would choose life. That there are people…people who care about me."

Lisbon swallowed to ease the tension in her throat as another stray tear traced down her cheek. Jane reached up and wiped away the tear with his thumb. Her skin tingled under his touch.

Leaning across the seat tugged at his incision site, but he didn't care. He sighed deeply. "I want to live." He lowered his hand.

"To avenge their deaths…" Lisbon continued for him.

"Yes, but more. There's more now. Maybe something after Red John. You have given me that."

"More?" Her green eyes locked on his blue, hoping that he couldn't read her mind.

"More," he affirmed before he lowered his gaze. "I've said enough."

Lisbon cleared her throat. "I'm not sure what to say."

"You don't have to say anything." He looked back at her eyes. "There are many things I want to see when I look in your soulful emerald eyes, and guilt is not one of them. Never guilt. Guilt belongs to other people. Not to you. "

"Jane…"

"Let's get out of here." It was clear he had just closed the subject, at least for the time-being.

"Hey Jane?" Lisbon added as she began to back up out of her parking place.

Jane looked up.

"I'm glad your eyes got their sparkle back."

Jane flashed her a dazzling smile. "Hey, did you see my fruit basket? It's from Minelli. I'll let you have the strawberries…"

"I'm not going to take your strawberries!"

"Relax, Lisbon, it's not a forbidden fruit."

"I don't do forbidden fruits," Lisbon clarified.

Jane laughed out loud. "You certainly don't," he agreed, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Lisbon's face turned scarlet with embarrassment. "That's not what I meant, and you know it! It didn't come out right."

"They're dipped in white chocolate…" he taunted.

_Oooh._ Lisbon did her best to suppress a smile. "Well, maybe one. Two at the most. But don't be thinking that will let you get away with stuff. I'm still 99% immune to your strawberries and charm."

"A-ha! So you admit that I have charm. I knew it!"

Lisbon rolled her eyes.

"I saw that!"

"Let's get you home."

The End

Again, thank you for reading and supporting this passion!

Cindy


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